Meta Fiction Rewrite
by The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien
Summary: Sam ad Dean Winchester have gone against how the story is written before. But sometimes throwing the script out the window takes help. Like from an archangel with a sweet tooth, a rebel without his wings, and an army of angels who just want their home back. (Rating for language)
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: There are TV episodes I've disliked or that annoyed me. This is so far the only TV episode I have truly DESPISED. I HATED 'Meta Fiction'. This episode of Supernatural pissed me off even more than when they killed off Bobby. Bringing Gabriel back but making it a fucking TEASE?!

Sorry. Anyway, I have decided to rewrite the episode keeping some things I did like and redoing the rest. So enjoy the prologue and please share any gripes you happen to have with the episode, just in case there's something I glossed over.

And, oh, yeah... I didn't like Metatron's little dialogue in the beginning, so I did my own.

* * *

SUPERNATURAL: Meta Fiction Rewrite

_A story's power doesn't come from just one element. It's quite a few of them, actually. _

_Its characters you root for and hope they achieve their goals or villains you want to see defeated. _

_Then there's the settings—locations and environments that draw you in to this fictional world and make you want to come back time and time again._

_But more than all of that, it's the heart a writer puts into the story. The sense that they care about what the readers think and what they feel while reading. _

_The thing is, most writers will never give readers what they want. Why would they? It's boring. Readers want happy ever after and for everything to be wrapped up neatly in a perfect package or for the heroes to ride off into the sunset._

_Of course, on the other hand, some writers do throw their fans a bone once in a while._

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On the surface, it would seem as though Dean Winchester's drive to hunt down Abbadon was a desire to complete a mission. But as he stood in a hot shower, trying to let the sound of the water drown out the steady pounding within him, Dean knew that his current push to eliminate the Queen of Hell was out of fear.

Fear that if he started killing he wouldn't stop.

Fear that he might hurt innocent civilians who just happened to be in the way.

Fear that one of those innocent victims would be his brother, Sam.

Right now it was hard to keep himself grounded, to see anything other than the mission and Dean blamed the rift between himself and Sam.

He didn't blame Sam. Hell, he knew full well why his brother was pissed. But what hurt the most about the mess with letting Gadreel possess Sam was the younger Winchester's protests that he would never have gone to such extremes to save Dean had the roles been reversed.

Bullshit.

Sam had shacked up with Ruby, a two-faced demon bitch who had gotten him addicted to demon blood under the guise of helping him take down Lilith—the demon responsible for Dean being in Hell.

Then there had been the situation with the faith healer after Dean had been electrocuted causing massive heart damage.

And the Brewer County Mystery Spot… And the final showdown with Hell's chief torturer, Alastair…

And while not Sam, per say, their father, John Winchester had traded his soul to save Dean after the car accident.

Stepping out of the shower at last, Dean felt both worn down and more hardened than ever. He just wanted it all to be over. He just wanted to go back to normal—fighting monsters with his brother.

xxx

Having exhausted his contacts, Sam tried not to feel defeated in his search for Abbadon. He wanted her destroyed if only so he didn't have to worry about Dean anymore. There was something about the First Blade that made Dean… Well, it was just like when Dean had first come back from Purgatory. He was hard, cold, ruthless…

And as much as he tried to fight it, Sam wanted his brother back. He knew that it would only end in pain and heartache, but he wanted to hear Dean call him 'Sammy' again. Wanted to joke over burgers and pie… To not feel like he was alone in the world, even when the two of them were in the same room.

Hearing the sound of wings rustling behind him, Sam whirled around expecting to see his friend, the angel, Castiel. But the celestial being standing there was the last person he'd ever expected to see.

"Hello, Sam," the archangel, Gabriel, said with a cocky grin. "Long time, no see."


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So I wanted to get something out before my fanfic writing goes dark for a wee bit as I will be working on my own internet reviews. By the way, if anyone is willing to help me with video editing, that would be awesome.

I have finally seen the season 9 finale and… Okay. Metatron is very rapidly falling into the 'Umbridge' category of villains in that I have no idea how to write this asshole without including the words: "And then he was stabbed by some random angel. The end." So it may be a while before he actually appears.

Also, I do have a list of angels I will be featuring in this rewrite and if needed, I'll describe who they are and what their particular job is.

Chapter 2

* * *

Castiel did his best to blend into the shadows of the boiler room of the abandoned warehouse where he was seeking… something. There had been some sort of angelic call sent out and it had drawn him to this location but all he'd found thus far was his dead brothers and sisters, the outlines of wings scorched into the ground.

Hearing something or someone behind him, Castiel swiftly turned around, raising his angel blade to defend himself as he did. But as he faced his would-be attacker, the blade fell from his hand and he backed away, not sure of what he was seeing.

"Well, that wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting," Balthazar said, glibly, as he retrieved the blade and handed it back.

"You're dead," Castiel stated, not sure if what he was seeing was real.

"I was," Balthazar corrected, sitting upon a stack of abandoned crates. "In fact, I was enjoying a very long encounter with Marilyn Monroe when Metatron did his bit of hocus pocus and the next thing I knew I was back here… sans powers, I might add."

Still completely confused, Castiel simply sheathed his blade and after a moment of quiet deliberation, he winged himself and Balthazar to the motel Cas had been staying in.

"I must say this is rather… grim," Balthazar observed as he went to the honor bar and withdrew a bottle of scotch whiskey. "I thought you'd be at the bunker with the Winchesters which, for the record, is a much nicer location than Mr. Singer's place. No disrespect to the dead."

Frowning at his compatriot and brother angel, Castiel wasn't sure whether or not to trust that this was really Balthazar. It seemed impossible and didn't make sense at all and while his brain was telling him not to trust his eyes, his gut and instincts told his otherwise. "Were all murdered angels cast out of Heaven?"

Shrugging as he sat down on the bed, Balthazar wasn't quite sure of how to explain. "Last I heard, the only angels—alive or dead—who are allowed back upstairs are the ones swearing complete loyalty to Metatron." Watching Castiel for a few moments, he wondered if it was a good idea to divulge the identities of the other angels who had been expelled. "Of course… you have your own followers, Cas."

Castiel looked up sharply at that news. "Excuse me?"

"Raguel, for one," Balthazar went on. "Also Sophia, Tabris, Camael… And lest I forget, Azrael and Dumah."

"I thought Azrael died in the fall," Castiel said, surprised by that. The Angel of Death was often considered to be in league with the Horseman, Death, even though the two often worked independently of one another. "How many more are there?"

Balthazar stood, smiling as he saw the look of determination on his brother's face. "A lot more."

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Deep in the woods of Grandview Park, Anpiel stood, eyes closed, listening for the signal. Balthazar had assured her that Castiel would take up the role of captain of the army and once that happened, it would be his job to alert the other angels ready and willing to fight against Metatron and open the doors to Heaven once more.

While many of the angels wished to return home, there were some that had a different reason for going back to Heaven. With the doors locked, so to speak, anyone who had died—humans and angels alike—were caught in the veil, stuck between the living and the dead.

Not that Anpiel spent much time in Heaven anyway. He preferred staying out there in the forests with the birds he was created to protect. Still, he missed home and longed to go back.

Hearing a screech overhead, he looked up, seeing a hawk perch right above him. Smiling knowingly as the hawk took off, Anpiel followed the bird out of the woods before winging out to join the others.

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"You want to run me through this one more time?" Dean said as he leaned against the table, arms crossed as he studied Gabriel intently.

Gabriel sighed, exasperated, as he obliged. "I didn't die in that hotel when Lucifer stabbed me. It was all a trick. And afterwards I hid out in the safest place I could think of—Heaven. I mean, come on! Who would have ever thought I was still alive?" Looking from Dean to Sam, he added, "Look, I get that you're not up for trusting anyone right now. But believe me—I am NOT on Metatron's side. Guy's a grade-A dick and nothing would make me happier than taking him down."

But as he glanced from one Winchester to the other, Gabriel felt increasingly nervous as he saw the look in Dean's eye. And having dealt with the Winchester's before, he instantly recognized it as Dean's trigger-happy, I'm-ready-to-kill-something-and tear-its-limbs-apart look. Closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh, he said, "Oh, God… what have you two knuckleheads done now?"

Out of reflex, Dean's left hand went to the Mark of Cain burned onto his right arm. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to hunt down Abbadon or, at the very least, tear through a couple dozen of her minions. His bloodlust was growing more and more these days and he couldn't fight back the urge to kill.

"Dean made a deal with Cain," Sam explained, simply, nodding towards his brother. "He took the Mark and—"

"Are you insane?" Gabriel blurted out in shock. Oh, sure, he'd expected the usual amount of Winchester stupidity but this was unbelievable. "You know, I seem to remember you talking to Castiel about not swallowing the souls in Purgatory because the power would overwhelm him. And now you've gone and done something even worse. You stupid, short-sighted moron—"

But whatever else the archangel was going to say was cut off as Dean lunged towards him in a blind rage. Sam held his brother back and nodded towards the nearest door. Gabriel got the message and opened a side door and jumped back quickly as Sam hauled his brother into the closet and slammed the door before locking it and bracing a chair under the knob.

"Sam, let me out of here or I swear to God I'm going to kill you next!" Dean shouted, his voice harsh with rage.

Sinking into another chair as Dean continued to scream, swear, pound the door, and promise bloody vengeance, Sam felt his heart clench as he saw what his brother had truly become. The worst part was that suddenly he heard his father's voice ringing in his ears. _"Sammy, you've got to save your brother. Do whatever you have to. Even if that means killing him."_

"Sam." Gabriel looked from the door to Sam and spoke the younger Winchester's name again. "Sam… We've got to stop this."

"We will," Sam swore, a determined look on his face as he stood. After all, now his brother's life depended on it.

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God, was Metatron stupid, Azrael thought as she guarded the current entrance to Heaven. And she hated having to kiss up to this whiny, self-absorbed pissant scribe of God.

But she was patient. And after watching humanity for a few millennia she'd learned much, especially when her journeys led her across the path of the Horseman, Death. The two spoke often of their observations on the human race. In fact, Azrael prided herself on being the one to introduce Death to the wide variety of culinary treasures available in the world.

It was during one of these excursions to a church-turned-restaurant in Clarkston, Michigan after the fall of the angels that the angel and Horseman began to conspire to remove Metatron from the equation. After all, the former scribe now fancied himself as the new God and Death was more than capable of dealing with a snot-nosed angel who was too big for his britches.

Being a double agent was very tricky and proving her allegiance to Metatron had resulted in killing innocent angels and humans alike. But the sacrifices were not in vain and Azrael now had the compete trust of the so-called God.

Yes, let Metatron have his fun and play his games, Azrael thought, smiling as she picked up the latest news from Castiel's angel signals. It would all be over soon enough.


End file.
